


It Takes Two to Tango, But First You Have to Learn the Steps

by azurish



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Angst, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:17:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8890510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azurish/pseuds/azurish
Summary: Sophie and Howl learn how to be in a proper relationship with each other after the events of the first book, in between solving a magical real estate conflict and bickering over proper engagement etiquette.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! =)

           The upstairs bathroom was a mess.

            Well, of course it was a mess.  Howl had a tendency to leave the house in a rush and forget things like cleaning up the bathroom or folding any of the seven different outfits he’d tried on before going out or tidying up the main room after he’d ransacked it to find his shoes.  (“Forget” was perhaps a generous explanation for why he never tidied up after himself, but Sophie was even more of a firm believer in stubbornly casting such situations in the most optimistic light possible, now that she’d learned she actually _could_ talk things into being the way she wanted them to be.  Howl might be a bit larger a project than her bouquets, but she was damn well going to try as best she could.)

            Had she come across the room like this last week, Sophie would have sighed, rolled up her sleeves, opened a window to let out the steam, and begun corking vials and bottles and placing them back on their appropriate shelves.  But since that momentous afternoon when everything had happened at once (and the less momentous but no less busy evening when they’d had to answer a million and one questions from everyone from Fanny to the King himself), they hadn’t really had time to discuss what Sophie would be doing around the house any longer.

            On the one hand, she felt quite strongly that Howl should not expect her to do all the cleaning up after him any longer.  It would give him terrible ideas, and go to his head, and he was never going to learn to be something like self-reliant if she didn’t start somewhere.  He shouldn’t think that she would just quietly slip back into being his personal cleaning lady.  Not that she had ever been a particularly quiet cleaning lady, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered.

            On the other hand, if she wasn’t here to be his cleaning lady, what exactly was she doing?  Just occupying his home as his personal flower seller, keeping his fire demon company when he was out, and occasionally doing spells for him when he’d come over in a distracted fashion and say something like, “Sophie, can’t you just _talk_ some sense into this broomstick?  None of my charms seem to be catching hold, but I know you can just tell it to fly, that should work,” and wander off before Sophie had any chance to ask him how exactly she was supposed to do that?  Live-in flower shopkeeper-cum-untrained magical assistant-cum-fire demon caretaker wasn’t exactly an official position.

            The problem was that Howl didn’t see that it was a problem, Sophie reflected, and now she was stuck with an existential crisis over a messy bathroom.

            On the third and very practical extra hand, she would quite like to use the bathroom herself this morning.  She was going to visit Lettie and the Wizard Suliman later in the afternoon, and no matter what Howl said about being unable to take Suliman so seriously once you knew what he was like when he was “two pints in and his team was down in the rugby,” whatever that meant, Sophie felt that it was important to put your best foot forward when you visited a royal wizard.  So perhaps she could clean not quite the whole room up, but at least tidy away enough of the mess that she would be able to use the space himself.  And if Howl noticed, he could just think whatever he wanted about the situation, and Sophie did not care at _all_.  The castle was her home too.

            When she cracked open a window to let all the scented steam out, she was too distracted by the water all over the floor to catch sight of the small winged creature fluttering just outside the window pane.  Muttering to herself under her breath and trying not to slip on the wet tile, she didn’t even notice when it darted in and buzzed off towards the main bedroom.

 

*

 

            “Are you _really_ the wizard Howl?” the young woman in the line behind them at Cesari’s asked.

            Howl turned and offered her a charming smile.  “I’ve been known to answer to that name, yes,” he said.  “Why, would you rather I not really be he?”

            “Oh, no!” she said.  “It’s just – my friend Eveline said she didn’t believe you’d ever dare come to Market Chipping again, after all the heart-eating.  But _I_ said I was sure you’d come back and explain yourself, once everything settled down.”  And she giggled, just about the worst, silliest giggle Sophie had ever heard.

            “Oh?  Well, the heart-eating wasn’t as bad as all that –” Howl began, and then _he_ laughed, and Sophie revised her earlier opinion, because that inane low chuckle had to be the worst false laugh she had ever heard.

            “It was,” Sophie said, turning around.  “He’s awful, you can’t trust him.  Ate my heart and never even asked permission.”  She sniffed.  “Now I’m stuck in his castle most of the time, locked away, never to see my family again.  Oh, hello, Martha,” she added, because they had finally reached the counter.  “Two of those puff pastries with the raspberries for me, and one of the twists for him.  So unless you’d like to be trapped forever with a fire demon in the scruffiest castle you’ve ever seen, I wouldn’t recommend talking to him much longer.  Of course, if you’d like to have your heart eaten, that’s your business, I’m sure.”  And she turned away firmly to exchange some of the coins in her purse for the tarts in her sister’s hands.  There was a small winged homunculus clinging to the edge of one of the coins, which was just typical (probably something Howl had been experimenting with, Sophie thought grimly), so she shook it roughly to dislodge it.

            “What was all that about, then?” Howl asked, one eyebrow raised, once Martha had given them their pastries and they’d taken their seats.

            “I didn’t like her tone,” Sophie said primly.  “I didn’t like your tone much either, you know.”

            “It was a harmless conversation!” Howl said.  “I was just being friendly.”

            “Then you could stand to practice being friendly on people like Mrs. Fairfax, whom I _know_ you’ve been avoiding because she wants you to explain how you knew Ms. Angorian, and a little less friendly to pretty young women in bakeries.”

            But it was clear Howl had other things on his mind, because he waved away all discussion of Mrs. Fairfax.  “Locked away, never to see your family again, really?” he said.  “Do you actually think it’s as bad as all that?”  And although his tone was as airy as ever, there was something vaguely hurt in his expression, a look she’d never seen when his eyes had been duller and green-glass, but which shone through clearly now.

            “What?”  Sophie blinked.  “No, I was just saying to her – no, of course I don’t, don’t be so foolish.  I was just saying that to get rid of her.”

            “As long as you’re happy at the castle,” he said.

            “I’m _very_ happy at the castle,” she said, meeting his eyes for a quick, shared smile.  “Besides, I don’t think you or Calcifer would know what to do without me anymore.”

            “Truer words than you realize, Sophie,” he said, almost seriously, and she laughed and laced their free hands together as they ate their pastries.

 

*

 

            The invitation came while Howl was out, so Calcifer was the only person Sophie could rage at.  Conveniently, Calcifer was always happy to grouse with her about the castle’s other occupant, so the two of them managed to keep the complaints going at quite a steady clip as Sophie bustled about the storefront, closing up shop and practicing her magic at the same time.

            “He can’t possibly expect me to be ready for a royal function in six hours’ time,” Sophie said while she stacked unused vases in a corner.  “There, now, stay right where you are and don’t even think about falling over.  If I asked him to show up anywhere special less than three days in advance, you can bet I’d never hear the end of his outraged moaning about how long it takes to put together an appropriate outfit.  Does he think I have dozens of ball gowns just sitting around in an attic?”

            Calcifer hissed in agreement.  “You should have known him while he was getting properly accredited,” he said.  “Endless hours of ‘Calcifer, do you think silver buttons send the right message for my debut at court?’ ‘Calcifer, does this shirt make my eyes pop?’ ‘Calcifer, help me enchant this cape so it always falls right!’”

            “I don’t doubt it!” Sophie said.  “And then he expects me to turn up at court as the to-be Madame Pendragon on just an afternoon’s notice!”

            “He used to do things like this to me all the time,” Calcifer informed her.  “Didn’t even properly ask me if I wanted his heart anyways, just assumed that I was going to need it and went from there with making the deal.”

            “That sounds just like him,” Sophie said, with a firm nod.  “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

            “Yes, now that you’re the one who has his heart, for all intents and purposes, I wouldn’t be surprised if he keeps up just like this,” Calcifer remarked.

            “Exactly, I – wait, what?” Sophie said.  “I have his heart?”

            Calcifer crackled with confusion.  “Not literally, of course.  But Sophie, you’re a witch yourself; you should know it’s quite a serious thing when a wizard falls in love.”

            “I – oh,” Sophie said, faintly, just as Howl walked in the door.  It took her a few moments to find her voice again, so Howl, who had assumed he was in the clear when Sophie didn’t accost him at the door, was quite taken aback when she thrust the invitation in his face as he was taking off his outer coat.

            “What exactly do you think this is?” Sophie demanded.

            Howl blinked.  “Unless one of us has lost the ability to read, it looks like an invitation to a royal reception this evening,” he said.  He frowned.  “It says it’s in honor of the recent reclamation efforts in the Waste, but I’m fairly sure it’s really another attempt by the king to get me to deal with his pixie problem – foolish man shouldn’t have built his summer residence over an old barrow, Suliman and I both told him at the time, and now he expects –”

            But Sophie would not be deterred.  “Yes, I’m sure the King’s constant interest in your work is a deep source of misfortune for you.  What I want to know is why this invitation is addressed to ‘the Wizard Howl Pendragon and the presumptive Madame Pendragon.’”

            Instead of looking guilty, Howl set his jaw stubbornly to meet Sophie’s glare head-on.  “I do, as you note, have rather a lot of business in Kingsbury and at court these days.  You’re going to have to come to functions as my wife eventually; getting a head start on the thing will only make it easier as you go along.  I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it quickly enough; it’s not very hard, and you’ll likely be visiting court quite frequently over the next few months.”

            “I will be?”

            “Well, of course you will be,” Howl said.  “Once we’re married, it’s really going to be an expectation that you’ll come along as well whenever I’m summoned, and with all the fallout from that business with the Witch of the Waste, I don’t think I’ll have a month to myself for ages.”  He paused.  “Don’t they do this sort of thing in Market Chipping?  I know it’s a small town, but I’d assume that even there, the usual protocols for grand occasions hold – or do you not have formal events there at all?”

            “You keep doing these things without asking me!” Sophie said.  “How was _I_ supposed to know we were getting married?  I can’t – I’m not sure I’m ready to go to the reception tonight as, as the soon-to-be Madame Pendragon.  I haven’t prepared for that!  And of course we have formal events in Market Chipping,” she added.

            “Well, don’t you _want_ to get married?” Howl said, looking rather pole-axed.  “I assumed –”

            “You’re not supposed to assume when it comes to marriage!” Sophie said.  “That’s more or less the idea of proposing.”

            “She’s right, you know,” Calcifer commented.  “Bad form all around.  Proposals are traditional.”

            Howl grimaced.  “All right, then – _will_ you marry me, Sophie?”

            “Of course I will,” she said, and she sighed.  “You’re supposed to kiss me now.  I’d like that.”

            So he leaned in to kiss her, and it was wonderful enough that she nearly forgot how annoyed she was with him.  She really did love him, and she could barely even imagine how happy she would be with a kiss just like this every morning for the rest of her days, and already she couldn’t wait for the wedding, both because she looked forward to teasing him for the endless hours he was sure to spend getting everything exactly as he aesthetically wanted it and because there was going to be something amazing about standing up in front of everyone she knew and loved to tell them that she and Howl belonged together, thank you very much.  It would just be nice if he remembered to ask her before he did things like this.

 

*

 

            Even she had to admit that the dress Howl had procured from her was lovely – he had found a deep green that suited her hair, bringing out the red highlights, and nicely complemented the spring green diamond pattern he was wearing.  Still, she was anxious enough about visiting court that she spent the carriage ride firmly talking to the dress – getting the deep green to mellow into a shade just a bit lighter, warning the skirt not to wrinkle, and coaxing the seams into giving her a little more room to maneuver about in.

            “You look lovely,” Howl said, unexpectedly, as they alighted at the entrance to the palace.  The King must have spared no expense in decorating for the event, because there were hundreds of candles floating around the main staircase, and their flickering light was being reflected in a dazzling shimmer by the golden domes, but Howl didn’t even seem to notice the grand lightshow.

            “I – you look all right, yourself,” Sophie replied, and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear self-consciously.

            “Shall we?” Howl asked, extending her a gallant arm, and Sophie laughed and took the offered forearm.

            Perhaps it was because she was here with Howl this time, or because it was no longer her first visit to the palace, but Sophie was much less intimidated by all the grandly dressed personages around the palace.  Indeed, she barely felt impressed by the elegantly gloved courtiers who directed them to the ballroom; and although the endless table teetering with food and the women in ball gowns and men in sharply-cut jackets whirling through the massive hall were much grander than anything she had ever seen in Market Chipping, Sophie discovered that she could face them all with a good deal of equanimity, or at least without feeling like she was going to trip all over herself.  Indeed, she felt so secure that when Howl told her he was going to split off to buttonhole an earl whose recent treatise on animal transformations had been groundbreaking, Sophie just nodded and wandered off to examine the roast platter.

            Unfortunately, it was exactly that moment when the pixies the King had offended decided to show up.  A great buzzing broke out in the ballroom, and a swarm of tiny winged sprites suddenly exploded in through one of the glass windows.  Sophie had just a moment to think that the little winged men looked horribly familiar before they made a beeline towards her.  Moments later, as shrieks sounded all about her, she found herself fairly surrounded by the little creatures.  They seized onto the fabric of her ball gown and she was lifted up into the air, being dragged up towards the high, high ceiling of the ballroom.  In the chaos below her, she saw Howl rush into the cleared space beneath her and tilt his head up to watch her rise.

            “Sophie, I think they’ve taken to you!” Howl called from the floor.

            “Yes, I’ve noticed!” she called back.  “Can’t you do something about it?”

            “I don’t want to send you hurtling on down!” he shouted.  “Try talking some sense into them – you’re a witch too, woman!”

            “Do I have to do everything around here?” she grumbled, but Howl’s endorsement still left her feeling a little more confident as she looked down at the thick coating of pixie covering her body.  “All right, then.  What exactly do you all _want_?”

            The creatures didn’t so much talk as stuff images into her head, one after another, buzzing angrily all the while.  She saw builders digging up an ancient barrow to erect a summer palace over it – the pixies wreaking havoc all over the new residence, pulling carpets out from under feet and tearing through the kitchens and spooking all the horses in the stables – the King complaining to Howl about all the trouble – Howl setting down some spell that was _bad_ , that made them feel _bad_ whenever they tried to go to the old barrow – and then she saw them follow Howl home and see her in his castle, and a sinking feeling started in the pit of her stomach as she saw them notice the way he looked at her and a plan begin to form.

            “He’s not going to take the spell off just to get you to let me go,” she told them, but her words sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

            “Look, you weren’t even using the barrow,” she tried again.  “I’m sure the king would be willing to compensate you for the loss –” and their buzzing grew louder, and angrier, and finally Sophie had had enough.

            “You are going to _stop_ and be _silent_ ,” she informed them.  “Right now.  I’ve tried being reasonable with you, but kidnapping uninvolved women because you’re annoyed about a real estate dispute isn’t the right way to settle this at all.  Be quiet!”  The wasp-like buzzing cut off almost instantly, and in the silence, Sophie could hear the quiet murmur of the crowd below her, whose attention was entirely fixed on her.  She shoved the embarrassment at causing such a spectacle at her first real royal function to the back of her mind, drawing on her anger to lend weight to her words as she addressed the swarm of tiny creatures.  “Now.  After I finish this, you are going to fly away and find a lawyer, and you are going to _politely_ ask them to evaluate any damages for your loss of property, but you are not going to intimidate them or force them to do anything for you.  You are not going to bother the King – or anyone else! – through anything other than the appropriate legal channels, and you are not going to return to this palace without being properly invited.”  The swarm pulsed unhappily, but Sophie could feel her words catching hold.  “Good.  You are going to let me go and then leave right back out by the window you came in through –”

            But she hadn’t thought that command through entirely, because the swarm of pixies swayed maliciously, spotting a loophole in her words, and immediately let her go, such that she abruptly found herself plummeting towards the ground.

            “Oh, come on, air, don’t you want to firm yourself up and cushion me as I fall?” Sophie said, rather desperately, as she plummeted towards the ground, just as Howl let out a wordless cry and gestured sharply up towards her, directing a thick curtain of magic up to catch her as she fell.  The end result was that she slowed to almost a standstill, wafting down to the ground as lightly and slowly as a feather, as the thwarted pixies streamed back out through the window.  Howl was waiting for her at the end of her descent, arms outstretched to catch her.  Under the circumstances, his assistance was entirely unnecessary, but she smiled at him anyways as she drifted slowly – very, very slowly – down into his embrace.  All around them, courtiers and officials were whispering amongst themselves, but for the moment, they only had eyes for each other.

            “What happened to heartless and mysterious?” Sophie asked.  “Dashing in to catch your fiancée as she falls doesn’t really fit the persona, you know.”

            “I think,” Howl said, a smile suddenly sliding into place, “that I’ve found a role that suits me even better.”  And he extended a hand.  “May I have this dance?”

            Sophie rolled his eyes, because it was just like Howl to be exactly as cryptic and dramatic as he possibly could, and what did he even _mean_ , a new role to play? – but she took his head nevertheless and allowed him to whirl her across the dance floor.  And if she accidentally stepped on his feet a few times, well, it only served him right for trying to lead her into dances she didn’t know the steps to.  Perhaps, she decided, after he winced as one particularly solid tread caught him on the insole, she’d have him teach her.  After all, they had all the time in the world to learn to dance together.


End file.
